The Streets Of Paris
by KeziReh24
Summary: The lonely woman walks along the rainy streets of Paris thinking about the life she once had. The life full of friends, family, laughter and love. Emily reflects on the life before she came to Paris. Full team mentioned in detail. Emily centered! Derek/Emily established. ONE-SHOT!


**So here is another story from me! It's a one-shot. Kinda sad. Emily centered but established Demily! If you already haven't you should check out my other stories! A New Beginning is already on Ch 26. It's a good escape read for the weekend. Anyways, ENJOY!(:**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine...man if it was.**

At night the lonely woman finds herself walking. Walking where? She does not know. She can't breathe in that apartment that has been set up for her. She can't sleep there either. The sounds of this city are different than they were back at the place she would call home. She doesn't cry anymore, she doesn't sleep anymore. All she does is walk. And think. She imagines her life as it was. How it used to be. A life filled with friends. Family. Love. Each member of her team had her own place. The Best Friend. The Sister. The Protector, The Father, The Little Brother, and finally...The Lover. At night she maps out there faces as she walks the lonely streets. As the rain pitter patters against the pavement. It drops in the puddles and she can't tell the difference between tear drops and rain drops.

The first face she sees in her mind is the one she can never forget. Maybe it was the bright yellow glasses, or purple glasses, or green. No one ever knows. Blonde bouncy hair like her personality. A smile that could light up the universe. Pure happiness. The call the Best Friend made still makes the lonely woman cry when she thinks of it. Asking her to come home. Sobbing for her to stay strong. To come back to them safely. The Best Friend is the one who is most aware of the family they have created. The call had no marks the Best Friend usually left. There were no nick names. No witty retort or bubbly laugh. Just sobs. Just cries. Just begging. Now the Best Friend is gone. The lonely woman is alone.

The next face she tries to imagine isn't a hard one either. The beautiful blonde. The ocean blue eyes. Her sister. The one that keeps her sane. The one that she tells all her secrets too. The Sister knows the truth. She hides in the dark. She plays online Scrabble by the name of Cheetobreath. A joke that was made so long ago when the Sister was swollen with her child. The one thing she craved the cheesy, puffy chips. One night during a girls night after a break up. The lonely woman and the Sister shared a pint of ice cream and a large bag of Cheetos. It's what the pregnant one craved. A laugh here, a giggle there. Name calling started and Cheetobreath was called. The Sister knew that the lonely woman would know who it was. That's what was so lovable about the Sister. She was the person you could tell all your secrets too. The person that no matter what you've done, they could love you unconditionally.

The Protector was the most interesting out of them all. He wasn't big on affection. Never was. Never has been. He cares more than anyone on the team though. He also helped set up the woman's death. Always protecting the team. Always protecting her. Always looking out for her. The fondest memory she has of him isn't even a memory that involved the family they had made. No. The family came much later after the fondest memory. When the lonely woman was a teenager and at the embassy she saw him across the room. She wasn't a lonely woman then, no...she was a Wild Girl. A child obsessed with drugs. Sex. Rebellion. She wanted him. She wanted the protector. Invited him to touch her. To be in trouble with her. To have a good time with her. He politely declined. He was engaged. Her name was Haley and he talked like she was the most amazing woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Later that night at a party she saw him again. She was kissing a bus boy. Staring at him though. The bus boy bit her lip, and she pushed him away. He grabbed her again, but the Protector did his job and protected her. He has always protected her. He has always looked out for her. It wasn't love. It will never be. She doesn't want him anymore. The wild girl in her did. She wasn't a wild girl anymore though. She was the Distinguished Agent. Now all she is, is the lonely woman walking down forgotten alleys.

The Father may be one of the people she misses the most. She needed his wise knowledge. She needed him to tell her to calm down. To cool off. To stop thinking the thoughts she thinks at night. The Father of the group always knew when something was wrong. He knew her the best out of all of them. He knew her better than the Sister. The Best Friend. The Brother. The Protector. He knew her better than the Lover. He had asked her in the weeks prior what was wrong. Just like a daughter she was to scared. Too ashamed to tell him. She didn't want the man that knew her best to know about her horrid past. He was like a father to her. Would a father want to know about his daughter's past? The one where she rolls over for the people that supposed to respect her. Treat her as an equal. The people that wouldn't take him down with out her opening her legs. The Father shouldn't know that. He wouldn't judge her, but the disappointment she can imagine is unbearable.

The Little Brother is the one she feels the most guilty about betraying. He has been left by too many people before. Each time a note written as too why. Praying he would get closure out of it. He never did get closure out of the death of her though. She was his protector, his sister...she was everything to him. He is just a kid. He doesn't know. He wouldn't understand. The feeling of betrayal would out weigh the IQ he has. They don't write books on how to feel. She can imagine his face when he cries for her. The same way he cried for his friend. For his father. The boy inside can't deal with this. She knows it can't. It's ripping her apart thinking about it. The blocks get shorter and the alleys get longer. The thoughts move to the ones she can't bear. The Lover.

The Lover is the one that brings the most pain when imagining. His dark skin. His muscular body. That smile he used to give. She can imagine him above her yelling for the team to find them. For the medic to come and save her. His tears hitting her face. She can't think about it. She needs to think about the happiness they once shared. The way his body felt against hers. They would lay together in the room, on her bed, the sun shining in. He would hold her, and she would nibble his ear. He probably hates her. He probably heard everything. He did hear everything. He knew what she did for Declan. Safe to assume he knew how she spread her legs for a terrorist. The person she needs the most probably wouldn't even touch her anymore. He would look at her like she was a whore. He would be hurt. He would feel like he didn't even know who she was. She lied to them all, but he was the one that touched her. Held her. Made love to her. Told her no matter what she's done he would still love her. He thinks she's gone. She's dead. He carried her coffin.

The memory that has been stained in her mind about the Lover is the night that they first made love. They were on a case. They both had a few drinks in them. He took her back to his room, and treated her like a woman. She wasn't just a colleague. She was a woman. He kissed the soft skin upon her neck, and ran fingers down her spine. He held her, and moved with her. It wasn't just sex like he had said. It was a connection. It was love. They weren't aware yet, but down the road they knew. They were a secret. A beautiful secret. A secret that called two people together at night. That's why it hurt so much to lie to him. To betray him. To treat their relationship like it was disposable. Like the rest of her life was. The rain has gotten harder and she doesn't care anymore. She can't tell tear drops from rain drops anymore. It seems like every night. Walking till morning. Tonight though is different. Tonight she loses her footing. Tonight she falls into a puddle, and gasps for air. The rain is drowning her. She needs them. She needs to see them. She can't though. She'll never be able too. When she get's her bearings back she stands. She wipes the mud off her hands. She wraps her arms around her waist. She is back to the place she has been in for the last two months. After the faces in her mind disappear she is back to the crying. The sobbing. The morning light. She is back to walking the lonely streets of Paris.

**Tell me what you thought! Seriously though. REVIEW, FAVORITE, do what you do. REVIEWS ARE LOVE! If you haven't read any of my stories CHECK THEM OUT! If you have then I hope you enjoyed another one of my stories! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**


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